Peter groaned, rolling over in bed again. For the most part this would be a typical morning, he'd get up, maybe someone would bring him food if he just waited a little longer… he listened to his stomach and decided that he wasn't too hungry, slowly sitting up. Perhaps if he waited and pretended not to feel well he could get one of the pretty servant ladies to bring him breakfast… what day was it? He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked around the room. He frowned a little to himself.

"Wasn't the window over there yesterday…?" he mumbled to himself. Come to think of it, where had all of his things gone? Why was everything so weird looking? He glanced down at the bed and noticed a little spot of blood soaked into the sheets, going up to the pillow. "Oh, that's right, I came to Francis…" he trailed off, his eyes going wide. Francis. Where was Francis? He stiffened, looking around the small room. Tears started to prickle in his eyes, taking only seconds to turn into full-on sobs. Had his brother decided to take the man away after all? His new Uncle hadn't done anything wrong since he'd been there, unless he'd tried and done it while he was asleep… Peter's sobs turned into wails, simply trying to attract the attention of a nurturing figure which, luckily, happened to be Francis. The man quickly took a seat on the bed next to Peter, wiping his nose on the long sleeves of his shirt.

"Desole, desole, I didn't mean to be gone quite so long…" he whispered, wrapping an arm around the boy. No sooner had he done so than Peter threw his own little arms around Francis, something about demanding an explanation. Francis bit his lip. "I… I-I just had to go check up on Arthur…" he sighed, letting Peter climb into his lap. "I was up earlier than you… H-he wants to see you too Peter, I was just coming to get you." He cooed softly, beginning to help the seemingly endless tears. "Ah, h-he's fragile though, as are you, s-so you may have to go back to bed soon, b-but you can probably come see him now." He stood, somewhat reluctantly letting Peter cling to him and carrying him a short ways before he seemed ready to walk on his own- and 'on his own' of course means 'while holding Francis's hand and also sort of clinging to him'. Upon reaching his brother's room he nearly shrieked with joy, a pleasant if not slightly shocking shift from being near silent during their walk. He pulled up a stool by the bed but hopped into Arthur's arms, earning a grunt of pain which was quickly masked with a little chuckle.

"G-goodness Peter, how y-you've grown…" he coughed, gently pushing the boy to the foot of the bed. He gave a little nod and happily took a seat by his feet. It was at this point that he noticed the bump in his belly. He frowned, peering at it from over his brother's knees.

"Arthur…" he started, looking up at him. The grin faded from the older brother's face. "You… you've gotten bigger too. Like, a lot bigger." He gave the bump a poke. "Have you been eating a lot of food or something?" Arthur stared, then forced a weak little laugh, again brushing off his brother's hand.

"A-ah, yeah, I suppose th-that's it…" he shot Francis a glance and a wink, to which his husband nodded in a sort of unspoken 'Don't tell him or else I'm not letting you share s bedroom with me' as well as a silent agreement. It wasn't as if what Peter thought was a lie though, Arthur had gained a bit of… non-baby-related weight while at the castle, his face had gotten a bit puffier, his complexion softer as well as his chest, although these were still only partially related to the fact that the chef made the most delicious chocolate cake that he was only a little bit addicted to. Besides, it wasn't as if Peter needed to know the reasoning behind it anyway. "S-so, um, Peter… h-how have you been?" he asked, hoping to shift to a less personal subject.

"Really, really sick!" he replied, his little grin still in place. "I have to spend most days in my room. Alli brings me my food most of the time."

"O-oh, I'm sorry to hear that…" Arthur mumbled, his own expression faltering.

"It's alright though." He continued, as if Arthur hadn't said a word. "On accounta' Francis is in the room next to mine now, and he's really super nice. Last night, when I was getting my night terrors, he let me sleep in his bed." Peter's little chest puffed up as if getting to share a bed with his brother's husband was some great honor, better than any medal he could hope to receive. Arthur nodded.

"Well, how sweet of him, did you say thank you?"

"No, but he left me alone this morning so I think we're even." Arthur laughed, to Peter's confusion. The younger of the two simply leaned over his brother's arched legs again, watching him. Arthur's little grin once again twitched uncomfortably and he sat up, lifting Peter from his little perch and setting him in the stool next to Francis's. The Red prince chuckled and took his previous seat next to the confused little boy.

"Ah, I-I'm sorry Peter, my back had been hurting me lately. I hate to make you sit so far away…" he mumbled in explanation. Peter nodded understandingly, if not a bit disappointedly. Francis, taking the opportunity now that Peter was out of earshot, leaned in to peck a kiss to Arthur's cheek.

"We'll have to tell him eventually you know…" he whispered into his ear, his smile slightly less bright when he pulled away. Arthur's own little grin twitched, but he responded in a silent nod of agreement. As far as he knew Peter didn't really know where babies came from, aside the obvious connection to pregnancy which normally occurred in women. No doubt he'd ask all sorts of questions his sweet, innocent little grin and his wide, curious eyes, the same questions that kept Arthur up at night and drove him nearly to tears when he realized he knew next to nothing about the things taking place in his very body; How was this happening- without the simple explanation of "magic"- and what the hell were they going to do in four more months when their child was ready to be born? He frowned, letting his hands come to rest on his stomach. He'd think of it later, when he could stand it better. Francis retook his seat next to Peter and turned to face the boy. "Peter, wouldn't you like to hear about our castle?" he suggested, sending Arthur a glance.

"Our castle?" he repeated, sitting up a little. "Oh yes, so much to tell… th-that said, I spend most of my time indoors these days… Francis, why don't you tell him something? You're better with storytelling than I am…" he chuckled absently. Francis nodded in only slight annoyance, his expression morphing to a thoughtful little frown.

"Oui… um… ah, what about the tale of the Music King's Treasure?"

"The Music King?" both brothers repeated, two set of bushy eyebrows raised in either interest or questioning disbelief.

"Oui. You see, Arthur and I were exploring the palace together one day…" he started, pausing a moment to give his husband a little wink. "…for no particular reason, just to explore. We passed room after room, and we came to one filled with… evil ghosts. Ghosts of people who had suffered gruesome deaths, and those who had tormented them there." Francis's lips were pulled into a little smirk as he watched their eyes go wide. "We had to fight our way out, and some of the ghosts even followed us- nice ones though, they escaped after- but we ran and we ran until we reached another room. Now, we didn't know it at the time, but it so happened that it was the room that the Music King himself once slept in before leaving to marry the… Flower Princess. We even found a piece of his music, and it was the most beautiful song… ah, you should have heard it Peter, it was such a lovely sound, I've played it many times since." He sighed contentedly. Peter was ecstatic with the wonder of the story. Arthur, having understood what 'adventure' he was talking about only halfway through, was grinning knowingly.

"It's a true story too. He plays that piece for me all the time… it's simply magical." he added with a little chuckle. "Perhaps if you're good, we'll bring it for you to hear on our next visit Peter, would you like that?" The boy nodded eagerly.

"Maybe its magic can get rid of my night terrors!" he grinned. Arthur simple nodded, his expression softening.

"Yes… speaking of which, you still look exhausted. Perhaps it's time you go back to your room, hm?" he asked. Peter frowned, opening his mouth to protest when Arthur cut in again; "If you're extra-special good, perhaps there will be a special little something under the Christmas tree for you." He added. This silenced Peter. He stood and gave Francis a hug, squeezed Arthur's hand in a sort of alternative to a hug, and took his leave, starting in a small fit of sneezes just outside the door. Arthur bit his lip as he and Francis sat in silent a moment, listening until the sound faded away. "Dear me, it would seem that he really is sick, isn't he…?" he mumbled.

"Oui, he definitely felt like he had a fever last night…" Francis agreed, turning back to Arthur. Now that Peter was out of earshot- not that he hadn't enjoyed the boy's company- he saw his opportunity and took it. "…s-so what did the doctor say about you then?" he asked, his gaze returning back to Arthur's belly. "I-I mean, you looked just awful, a-and you still sort of do…"

"I'm going to be perfectly fine." Arthur answered quickly. He was actually struggling to remember what the doctor had said and exactly how he had said it, having been exhausted and in pain beyond the point of actually absorbing information. Francis perked up.

"So, you don't think you'll have to stay for anything to heal? N-nothing like that?" he asked, wishing to confirm that his dream would be nothing more than just that; a dream. Arthur shook his head.

"N-no, I believe I'll be fit to travel again soon… a-and even if I did have to stay or something, I wouldn't allow you to leave without me. Y-you've seen how Alfred is. He's little more than an overgrown child really, always has been… Allistor tells me he's turned away lots of girls, dozens, hundreds maybe, girls that are prettier or richer or better for him than I am, but he always insists that he'll only take me, married as I am." He lifted his head from the pillow, looking Francis in the eye seriously. "He only pursues me for fun, as he does with everything. If he ever should have me, or if he had in the first place, he would grow bored quickly… and if not that, he would never love me as a man…" he sighed. Francis, noting that the topic was drifting into something Arthur seemed reluctant to talk about, decided to back up a little.

"Yes, he is quite childish… yesterday, when I found you two, he just scooped you up and shouted at me, something about your 'love', his love for you, such nonsense…" he scowled. It would only be worse if Alfred allowed his jealousy to take over. What kind of monster such a thing would release he was actually afraid to see. "I'm afraid that if I try and kiss you he'll have my head… it would be nice for him to just wake up and face reality." He sighed. He really did fear that Alfred would try and take his place, or somehow trick Arthur- his Arthur- against him. It still confused him as to why the man had rescued him when he so clearly wanted him dead. Even beyond that they were still complete strangers to each other for the most part, it was as if he'd scraped a nobody off the street. He sighed, glancing at the door and pecking a cautious little kiss to Arthur's cheek. "The last thing we need is for either of them to think any worse of me than they already do… they might think I'm a spy or something, talking to only you and Peter-"

"Francis, I don't care what they say or think, there isn't a person alive I'd rather be with than you…" Arthur said softly, earning a little smile from his husband. He was already sure that one- if not both- of them wanted him dead, and for Arthur to be without his child. He opened his mouth to speak again but only coughed, then coughed again, wiping blood away from his lips. "A-ah, my apologies… I suppose that neither of us are really doing so well, oui?" he tried to brush it off with a little chuckle but Arthur frowned, struggling to sit up and feel his forehead.

"Doesn't feel like a fever… w-we could talk to Allistor about getting someone to look at you though… who knows, maybe if we can get him on our side, Alfred will follow." He chuckled. It wouldn't be so difficult to convince Alfred of anything, he was near-sure of it. The first time they had met after their escape he had dismissed his dressing as a boy as a disguise and, despite his boyish face, haircut, and body, Alfred had whole-heartedly believed him, even going so far as to tell him that he looked 'beautiful no matter what he wore'. Francis took Arthur's hand and lowered it slowly, his lips resting against the younger prince's knuckles for only a second before the door started to creak open. He glanced back only to find the eldest of the remaining Kirkland boys standing in the doorway, holding a large tray of food. He dropped his husband's hand and held his own up as if to prove his innocence against some unspoken crime. The redhead merely frowned, his eye giving an involuntary twitch before he entered.

"Thought you'd be in here…" he muttered, approaching the bed. Arthur tugging his legs aside to make room for the tray, his stomach grumbling silently as it came close enough for him to smell it. "Thought you two… lovebirds would be in here first thing." Arthur scowled, his cheeks turning red at the name, 'lovebirds'…

"Th-thank you…" he grumbled, taking a fork and skewering a piece of what appeared to be fruit.

"The doctor will be here later to take a look at you, Francis too I suppose…" he added, as if he hadn't included Francis in his previous statement. "Oh, and don't expect to see Alfred until at least noon, he'll be sleeping late as usual, that lazy little sonofa…" he allowed his voice to fade with the last word, starting back for the door. Arthur rolled his eyes and shoved the fruit in his mouth, relaxing only once his brother was gone again. He took the other fork and stabbed a piece of egg on it, holding it to Francis's lips.

"Eat." He instructed simply. Francis did so, pleasantly surprised that the food wasn't as awful as he'd been led to expect. It was presented nicely at least, with the egg and semi-toasted bread pushed to one plate, the fruit to a little bowl with oranges cut into star-flower shapes sitting on top, one of which was partially eaten by Arthur already.

"My compliments to the chef…" he mumbled jokingly, letting the taste settle onto his tongue before swallowing. "Let's shift the topic to something a little better, shall we? You don't seem to be quite so miserable today, no throwing up, no crying, no… moodiness…" he chuckled. Arthur gave a nod of acknowledgement and little else.

"There hasn't been much to upset me the same way there is at home. Usually by the time I've woken up you're gone. Occasionally I get to see your carriage disappearing down the path and I wave, and other times I see the carriage still sitting out and I try to run and meet you… only sometimes though, usually I'm up before dawn and I read myself to sleep again…" he huffed a little sigh. Being alone on those mornings did make him feel abandoned though, the little spark of worry inside of him growing and telling him that Francis didn't care or wouldn't be coming back, or that he wouldn't make it home, the kind of gut-twisting fear that lasts the entire five minutes before his breakfast is brought to him, the kind that has to be taken out on one's breakfast via vigorous stabbing and squishing with one's fork… not that he would know a thing about that. "Funny really, normally we never get to eat together like this… and yet now, we've gone and done it two mornings in a row. I suppose that it something worth being happy about…" he shrugged, taking a bite of the first thing his fork stabbed. "As for throwing up… I think I may have already, last night. I got it into a wash cloth though, and I think I swallowed some of it…" he shuddered. Francis cringed, tugging up a blanket to cover his beloved prince's legs.

"Oui, w-we really did only eat together for a little while before I started to occupy my time again…" In truth he had been instructed by his mother to spend a little time with his bride, make 'her' feel welcomed, or at least a little more so than a few certain castle-goers did. "It hadn't occurred to me at first that you actually missed me, I just thought it was about your family, that you wanted to be with them again…" he took a little cup and poured himself whatever was in the little kettle that was brought for them- he couldn't tell whether it was tea or coffee- and held it a little while. He had spoken to the magician not long after, complaining of his own stresses over tea just as he and Arthur were. He'd been appalled to learn that Arthur had practically begged the man to turn him into a woman before settling on what he'd gotten. Surely he understood that, regardless of what Francis's parents thought, his own family would never let either of them hear the end of it if they came to visit with a sister instead of a brother.

…

Said magician was currently sitting at one of his worktables, high in the tower, flipping through one of a number of leather-bound books with a furious scowl on his face.

"No, no, no… God damn it! Damn it all!" he shouted, smashing a fist- as well as a small bowl of nutshells- against the table. A lanky, scruffy haired young man popped up from the door frame, peeking in at the man.

"Uh, sir? Are you alright-"

"Yes Thomson, I'm just peachy." He growled, turning to face him. "No, I'm not alright! I've made the most awful mistake!" he threw his hands up, leaving his seat and pacing the floor. "It's that young man—woman, Alice, who comes in here nearly every day. She was supposed to have died last night. Just look, middle of the page, third paragraph…" he nodded to the book. Thomson, shocked and confused, gave the book a glance. The page read around eight o'clock, the time being blurred due to the one who's viewpoint it was not knowing the time whenever it had happened.

...I threw myself off the carriage in hopes to get away from Alfred, but I fell off. It hurts so much, I fear…"

He frowned, reading the sentence over a few times to make sure he'd gotten it. It didn't make much sense to him.

"So… what's the problem? Just because it says she stopped talking, doesn't mean she actually died-"

"But that's just it you stupid boy!" screamed the magician, snatching the book away before shoving it's neat little cover in his face. On its cover was scrawled, in neat, curly cursive, 'Arthur D. Kirkland', although the Arthur had been scribbled out- just as it had been on the marriage form- and replaced wit a crudely written 'Alice'. "These books aren't just about people's lives, they are people's lives! Every book you see here, every single one, represents a life. This is the archive of the Red Kingdom." He gestured around the room to the hundreds if not thousands of books covering the walls up to the high ceiling. "This one is hers. Last night, it said that she died from a carriage incident on a little street just outside of Wayfall. The bookmark formed, that meant that her death was pending. With an injury life that I could only assume she would die out there, lacking proper medical care, but I come in this morning and the book is still here! So I open it, not only is it no longer pending, several chapters have appeared! Look at this Thomson!" He thrust the book into the young man's face again and aggressively flipped the pages, some of then whapping against his prominent nose. "The book was supposed to burn up, that's what they do when people die… it just doesn't make sense…" he sighed, flopping into his chair again. Thomson, still not quite understanding, flipped ahead to where new words were appearing on the page.

"Well… what are they doing now?" he asked, giving the man a glance. The magician lowered his hands from his eyes, revealing a glare icy enough to freeze the magically-enhanced mint and holly scented candles throughout the tower. He sighed, taking a look at the page and flipping back one to see what he'd missed.

…

Arthur simply shrugged, stuffing another piece of something into his mouth and half-chewing it before shoving it into his cheek.

"I've sort of grown accustomed to your absence… but you know, it does seem as if those children love you every bit as much as I do, if not more." He let a little smile slip. "There was a time I had wished you would just forget them and spend a little time with me, at least to show you cared, but I think that they need you more than I do." It was Francis's turn to laugh.

"Need me? I would hardly say that… to them, I'm simply a married man who happens to visit them a lot, doing odd jobs to support his beautiful wife and future child…" he emphasized each name with a little kiss to Arthur's hand or stomach, turning his face a brilliant shade of red.

"A-ah, yes. W-well, perhaps y-you can take us with you again sometime… once I've had a chance to talk with Alfred again…" he chuckled weakly.

"Oui." Francis gave a nod, taking a polite little bite of egg. "I believe it is time I think of you two a little more often. I have at least been thinking of names… for the baby, of course." He gave Arthur's belly a little grin as if he hoped their child would see him.

"Oh, right, that… it would be nice if we knew the gender, p-perhaps when we get home I could ask that magician…" Arthur's grin faltered. In truth he too had been thinking of names, or at least attempting to. It was traditional to name one's child after the general their father served under during wartimes- it was how both Arthur and Peter had gotten their names- but he'd had difficulty actually thinking of new names, seeing as there was no war to speak of at the time. Most of the names he did come up with were those of generals or other high-up military men, names he found to be unattractive, and he couldn't come up with a single nice female name… although he was sure Francis had said he wanted a boy. "I… I haven't really thought of any myself. Growing up in a household of all boys sort of does that, I suppose, a-although I don't think it would be so bad if we did have a girl… sh-she'd be a sweet little thing I'm sure…" he mumbled the last bits, the words quietly lost on Francis as he tried to recall the small list he'd accumulated.

"Oui, we should consult with him, he might be able to tell us what it is… that is, if we're only having one." That seemed to snap Arthur's attention back to him, earning an almost panicked, wide-eyed look, a twitching smile, and a delicious blush spreading across his cheeks.

"I… I-I sincerely hope it's only one…" he mumbled. Francis chuckled.

"Well, even if it isn't I've got no shortage of names. There's Benjamin, Marius, Jean, William, Adam… oh, and if there's a girl it could be Annabelle, Catherine, Saria, Victoria…" he trailed off, trying to think of others. His eyes- having wandered to the ceiling during his short rambling session, trained back on Arthur, finding a surprised pair of peridot eyes staring back at him.

"I-it seems as if you've given this quite a bit of thought… I feel a little bad, as if I haven't done my share of the thinking in this…"

"Oh nonsense!" Francis swatted away the thought as if it were a pesky bug. "You're carrying the child, aren't you? I would say that's more than enough…" he leaned in over him, one ear resting against his belly. "What do you think little one, is your mammon doing her job well?" he asked it jokingly. Arthur's little grin returned and he pushed his head away playfully, even managing to laugh without hurting himself too much.

…

The magician gave a little sigh. "Oh, that's sweet… they were talking about me, and now they're thinking of names for their baby." He leaned over the books, watching the identical list of names fly across the pages of their books. "I just can't wait to tell them that they're having a-"

"Boring!" He scowled, turning to face his apprentice. Thomson had eased himself back against the edge of a table, looking rather upset with the content of the books. He stepped forward, interpreting the list as a whole lot of nonsense and going to the last line of Francis's, rubbing it out with an eraser and changing

"I wonder what our child is thinking, I swear I feel it moving inside of him…"

to

"I wonder what our child is thinking, I swear I feel it moving inside of him, although as I listen I can't help but notice the door sitting slightly open, the teary eyes of some unknown listener just barely visible before they slam it shut…"

The magician all but threw Thomson away from the book, snatching the eraser from him. "You can't just go meddling with people's life journals you idiot, it's dangerous! You could-" he happened to catch a glance of the page, skimming through what he'd written and lowering his ready-to-slap arm. "…who is it then? Who's watching them?" he asked, slightly interested. Thomson shrugged.

"Heck if I know…" he grumbled. "Let's just watch and see."

…

As if by some unseen force Francis's eyes flicked to the door just in time to see the teary eye of their eavesdropper. He froze, about to tell Arthur to do the same when the door slammed shut. They jumped at the noise, the younger prince looking around to find its source.

"Wh-what was that?" he whispered. His eyes moved cautiously around the room, reaching the door was still hanging a little bit open and watching a hand dart out to shut it again, more quietly this time. He watched, then frowned. "…Alfred? A-Alfred, is that you?" he called, no longer afraid to be heard. He stared incredulously at the door, sitting up. "Alfred Jones, you come here this instant!" he shouted. There were a few long, awkward moments of silence, as if the young prince was hoping they would forget about him if he was quiet enough, before the door was slowly pushed open again, the Blue prince's eye magnified slightly through his glasses. His gaze fell the ground and one hand rose to sheepishly readjust his glasses.

"Just trying to protect you…" he mumbled.

"Protect me?" repeated Arthur. "From what, my own husband?" At the word Alfred's head snapped up again. He looked as if he wanted to scream.

"He doesn't have to be your husband Alice!" he replied quickly, run-walking up to the bed and snatching one of Arthur's delicate hands. "I… I-I love you!" he winced at the words as he said them, but he held fast to Arthur's hand, going to far as to drop to one knee and grip so hard his knuckles turned white. A stray tear rolled down his cheek. "Y-you're the most beautiful, most amazing, most wonderful woman I've ever met! B-besides, you can't be in love with him!" he gestured at Francis, earning an offended gape from the elder prince. "A-Alice, think about it. He's killed hundreds, dare I say thousands of people, hurt even more, many of them your own! Alice, I could-" he was cut off by a harsh slap across the face. Arthur stood halfway-up on his knees, towering over him.

"Don't you dare speak of Francis like that you spoiled, self-entitled little prick!" he screamed, tearing his hand away from Alfred's and replacing it with Francis's.. "I do love him! I know he may have killed before, but you talk as if you're no better than he is!" Alfred seemed to cower away under his words. "Just look at yourself, you little coward, hiding behind the stone walls of this fortress of a castle and watching as the god-damned world crumbles away outside! If you cared for me at all you would have at least tried to have helped me when I needed it. Where were you when I was being dragged from my home, my entire life gone just like that, and you did nothing! Where were you when I was locked up for years, being beaten and bruised and scarred and raped and neither you nor your people lifted a finger to help me, or any of my people for that matter! And then, the first time I see you in ages, as if I even need rescuing, you fucking kidnap me, drag me off as if nothing has happened, as if I'm like your little toy that you can just come and get whenever you think you want me again! Is that what I am to you Alfred?!" he glared down at him, fiery heat boiling red in his cheeks in contrast to what color had drained from Alfred's. The younger prince's lips trembled. He stood again, a shaky hand rising to rub the pink hand-shaped mark on his cheek.

"A…A-Alice, I-I'm so sorry, I… I…" he choked on the words, extending a hand. Arthur's eyes softened but he held his expression as furiously as before, pushing his hand down again.

"G-get out of my sight…" he growled. The Blue prince nodded solemnly and started for the door again, his hands moving from his cheek to his tearful eyes. Arthur found himself panting lightly. A light wetness had risen to his own eyes, revealing themselves as tears as Arthur fell a moment later at Francis's side, sobbing into his arm. "S-sorry… y-you had to see th-that…" he whispered between choked, burying his face in the fabric of his shirt. Francis himself felt as if he could cry, although for the sake of his beloved he kept his tears back. Alfred did have a point; he had mindlessly slaughtered hundreds upon hundreds in the name of a pointless war, slashing at anyone who happened to stand even remotely close to his way let alone in it. Men, women, children, the unborn, he'd done away with an entire family in just seconds, setting fire to houses and barricading them from the outside just to listen to the screams of the trapped innocents inside, either burning to death or being crushed as the floor caved in beneath them. It had all seemed so pleasantly unreal, picking off little nobodies in the town of who-knows-where, perhaps even some tiny, unrelated kingdom if they'd gone far enough across the border. His father had been so proud of him that day…

"Th-that was… quite powerful, th-those things you said…" he murmured, wrapping his free arm around him. He eased them a little closer to the bed to make Arthur comfortable, running his fingers down Arthur's soft, ivory skin and letting him cry away, choking out silent sobs.

…

The two men stared at the books, eyes flashing rapidly across the pages as words seemed to appear faster than they could possibly be written. The magician was gaping, covering his mouth with one hand as he read and re-read all that Arthur had just said.

"Whoa…" came the soft, whispery voice of Thomson. He turned to face his young apprentice who, unlike himself, looked less than surprised. . "I… I-I only changed one little sentence… D-do you know what this means sir?" he scooped up Francis's book, flipping several pages until he found the few words he'd added. "We can change so much! We can improve the world, stop wars, save lives… we could be heroes!" he held the book up as if it were a trophy. The magician stared at him, then around at the other books in the room. He stood, taking the journal from Thomson and setting it back by Arthur's.

"Thomson…" he started coldly. "You are hereby banned from entering this room again. Get out."